Just Live, No Regrets
by woahkayitslauren
Summary: Tim Riggins/OC pairing.   Olivia and Tim enjoy some time together. Let's see where it goes!
1. Chapter 1

"Get your freezing cold feet off of me." he whisper-yelled in my ear. I rolled over and looked at him, a slow smile creeping over his face.

"it's not my fault your body stays at a toasty 85 degrees and your legs are perfect to warm me up."

"Oh, so that's how it is? You're using me now? I only provide you with body heat?"

"No!" I laughed into his chest. "Of course not!" Before I knew it, Tim flipped over top of me, his hair grazing my chest as he buried his head in my neck. The familiar breathless feeling began in the pit of my stomach as Tim worked his way down my neck. As my breathing became more and more shallow, I heard the front door open and close.

"Tim…we should-"

"Alright, hold on. I'm almost done." His voice was muffled against my skin. His lips worked their way down my neck while his hand stroked me from below. I knew the familiar pattern that he was starting, and now was not the time. I was sure my aunt and uncle were home now, and while they knew Tim was often over, and didn't seem to mind our quick visits to my bedroom, I was pretty positive they wouldn't approve of this. I surveyed the current situation. I was on my back, bra-less since Tim had decided to pay more attention to my "awesome tits", as he so lovingly referred to them. My underwear was on, but having Tim's hand down them wouldn't help any. Tim himself was wearing my favorite pair of boxers briefs, the black ones that hugged his ass and muscular upper thighs. His shoulders dipped down below my head, giving me a spectacular view of aforementioned butt. God, he drove me crazy. It was bad enough just looking at him, but the things he did to my body…it was incredible. I pulled myself back to the present and ran my hands down Tim's back.

"Hey, Tim. Come on. They're home. You gotta stop. You know I don't want you to, God, I never want you to stop, but I promise we'll have another night to finish this. Let's do it the right way." I pleaded, but Tim was stubborn. His lips and hand never stopped. "Oh Tim. God, stop. You really have to. Friday night. After the game. Ohhhh, Tim. We'll find a place. I promise you, you'll have the night of your life." That got his attention. He removed his hand and groped around on the floor, pulling my bra and pants up onto the bed along with his jeans. His lips still hadn't left my neck, and I knew he was leaving a mark that I was going to have to find a way to cover up. Somehow I managed to get my bra on, and in a fit of acrobatics, slipped his pants onto his legs. As I pulled them up over his ass, I could feel him getting hard all over again. I couldn't resist teasing him a little, so I ran my tongue along his ear while buttoning his jeans. He stopped his caress on my neck long enough to moan into my ear.

"Live." His nickname for me that he felt fit perfectly in his "no regrets" system. Tim had always told me that all he wanted to do in his life was Live, and now he finally was. Of course, underneath all his joking, I knew that that was his way of telling me I meant something to him.

"Come on, Tim. Let's get up." I rolled out from under him and stood up. He flipped onto his back and laid on the bed, looking up at me.

"Live, you're beautiful, you know that?" I nodded and smiled. God, that smile of his could get me every time. I grabbed his flannel off the ground and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned and the sleeves hanging. I crawled across the bed and curled up next to him. He traced circles over my stomach and I started to close my eyes. A knock at the door shocked us both. Tim was up and over me in seconds, grabbing his boots and flinging open the window. He looked back at me, pulled me into a kiss and disappeared around the corner to his truck. Wrapping his flannel around me, I opened the door a crack to see my aunt standing there.

"Olivia. Just wanted to let you know me and Uncle George are home." She smiled at me, trying to sneak a look into the room behind me.

"Thanks Aunt Melinda." I stepped outside of my room and closed the door. "I was just coming to get some ice cream. I've been craving chocolate all night." I kept up a string of nonsense babbling until she got tired of me and went upstairs to bed. I climbed into my own and had just turned off the light to go to sleep when I got a text.

"Don't 4get about friday." I smiled, and another text came in.

"Meet me at my truck after the game." Not even bothering with a response, I laid the phone down next me and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

**AN: **This is my first fic, so give me some reviews (: There's more to come if you guys like what I have so far!


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, thank God. They had won. The Panthers had won, 24 to 7, a score I knew Tim would be ecstatic about. He had had an amazing game, barreling down the other team with an aggressiveness that, I had to admit, turned me on. I could just picture the look on his face underneath his helmet. Thinking about it made me want to jump him the second he came out of the locker room. I stood by Tim's black Chevy, watching as players slowly trickled out. Smash passed me with a massive grin and yelled out.

"Ohhh, there's the woman Rigg's getting all cleaned up for. 'livia, you better watch out. My man has some plans for you!"

"Thanks for the news Smash! Good game tonight!" I yelled back, excited at the thought of Tim in the shower. I watched as the locker room seemed to empty out, but Tim had yet to show. I knew something was up when Coach Taylor walked out and got into his car. What could Tim possibly be doing in there? I crept to the door of the locker room, and listened. I heard Tim yelling at Billy; I was assuming over the phone.

"God-damnit Billy! I ask you to do one goddamn thing for me, and you can't even do that! Why the hell do I even bother?" I paused and flinched when I heard TIm throw the phone across the locker room. I peeked in, and saw Tim punch his locker and sink onto the bench, his head bent into his hands. I snuck into the locker room, afraid to let Tim know I had heard the conversation.

"Hey handsome!" I crowed cheerfully as I walked up behind Tim.

"What the hell?" He spun around, but relaxed when he saw it was me. "Oh, uh, sorry Live. I just got distracted." I looked at him, concerned when I realized he still hadn't removed his uniform and pads.

"Hey. Tim. C'mere. I heard the end of your conversation with Billy. What's wrong?"

"Shit. You heard that? Damn it. Live, I had this whole night planned for you, but unfortunately it all depended on Billy, and the stupid ass bailed on me. Sorry." He looked down at his cleats like a punished six year old. He looked so disappointed and pissed that it was all I could do not to laugh.

"Tim. Tim. Look at me." He raised his head and looked at me from under hooded lids. "I love that you tried to plan, but don't stress. In fact, I have an idea. And if I remember correctly, I promised _you_ a night you wouldn't forget." I grinned at him, a plan formulating in my head. "For right now, just sit there and hold tight for five minutes." I left Tim sitting on the bench and ran into the coach's office, checking to make sure he was really gone. I went to the door of the locker room, double-checked to make sure everyone was gone from the parking lot and then shut and locked the door. I returned to find Tim sleeping sitting up in his pads. Smiling, I knelt down to start untying his cleats. Tim jerked awake and I sat up and kissed him.

"Live, if you don't mind me asking, what the hell is going on?" He bent down to help me.

Brushing his hand out of the way, I replied, "Shhh. I locked the doors, so we'll be alone. You were amazing tonight, and to celebrate that and everything else you've done, I'm taking care of you. So don't argue and enjoy it." He just stared as I untied the laces, clearly feeling awkward for not helping. I slipped off his cleats and took his left foot in my hands. I slowly began to massage the balls of his feet, feeling the knots and working to loosen them. I looked up at Tim, and he was leaning back on his locker, eyes closed. I switched to his right foot and when I was done, I stood up and kissed him, deep and slow. Tim looked up at me through hazy eyes, and I pulled him forward. I worked his jersey off his back and through his arms, one at a time. I pulled off his pads, amazed that he could run as fast as he did carrying all this weight. I stripped him of his tight pants, and I couldn't help brushing my hand against the bulge in his briefs. Slowly, I began to massage his neck and shoulders through his thin white t-shirt, until I realized it would be easier to feel the knots only under a layer of skin. I faced Tim again, and I could tell it was taking all he had to stay alert and awake. I slid my hands under his shirt, caressing his sweaty chest until his eyes drooped shut. Removing his tee, I focused my attention on his back again, before I was struck with a genius idea. I slowly kissed my way around Tim's neck to his lips, and he met my gaze with a drunken look.

"Hey." I whispered, afraid to break his peace.

Licking his lips, Tim whispered back, "Live. You are…incredible." I laughed quietly, and took his hands, easing him into a standing position. Looking down, I realized I had forgot to remove his socks, and I gently did so before leading Tim back to the showers. I watched as his eyes widened as he realized what I had planned. Shaking off his stupor, Tim pulled me to his body. He started kissing my neck, and slid off my sweatshirt before I could stop him.

"Tim, wait. I'll do it." Knowing he was watching my every move, I daintily stepped out of my boots and removed my socks, tucking them inside. I silently thanked myself for wearing a button down as I slowly teased each button open. I looked at Tim out of the corner of my eye and his gaze never strayed from my hands. I could feel him fighting the urge to rip the shirt off himself. I let my shirt slide to the floor before focusing my attention on the button of my jeans. As I slid my dark jeans over my ass, I heard a low moan escape Tim's lips. I stood before him in a tiny black lace bra and a pink lacy bikini bottom. I undid the front clasp of my bra, letting it fall aside and join my shirt. Tim let loose another moan and I could clearly see his erection from here. God, he was hot. I wanted to race over and let him ruin me, but tonight was for him. I pushed aside my bottoms and slowly walked toward him.

"Oh God. Live. Oh fuck." Tim ran a nervous hand through his long hair. I slid a hand down his chest and hooked a finger under the band of his briefs. Jesus, his dick was straight. I felt him shiver and I knew he couldn't hold it much longer. Raking my hands across his ass, I pushed aside his underwear. I brushed a hand across him, and the moan he let out made me shudder. Escaping his reaching fingers, I scampered over to the shower and turned it on, letting the water pour over my head. Between drops I saw Tim moving closer towards me, and before I knew it, he had his hand wrapped around my waist. Figuring I had about five minutes before he let go, I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and soaped up my hands. Reaching up to grab his head, I massaged the shampoo over Tim's scalp and hair. Twisting my hands through his long, thick hair, I could feel him relax and loosen up under my touch. I carefully rinsed the shampoo out, shielding his eyes from the stinging chemicals. Searching for the body wash, I looked at Tim and grinned wickedly. I started on his back, rubbing my hands along his shoulders and back, down his butt and thighs, even across his feet. I started back up his front, getting his legs but skipping his dick. That would come later. I soaped up his chest, loving how I was making his breaths shorter and faster. I kept an eye on his growing erection, and when I thought he couldn't handle any more, I moved my hands down. I barely laid a finger on him before Tim had shoved me up against the shower wall and buried his head in my neck, panting and spitting out water. Everything was slippery and wet, and I began to lose what little self-control I still had. Tim's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and I could feel his dick poking at my thigh. The more I panted, the rougher Tim got. He was tugging on my nipple with his mouth, running one hand across my clit, and holding me against the wall with the other. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I let loose the moan I had been holding in. Tim let go of my breast and looked at me, hunger blazing in his eyes. He kissed me roughly and entered me, all while holding me to the wall with both hands. We were sliding everywhere, but somehow Tim kept his rhythm, and I arrived at my orgasm out of breath and satisfied. He pressed me against the wall, breathing hard.

"Oh fuck. Live. Oh my god." He buried his head in my neck, and I could feel how hard he was trying to control his breathing. He pulled back and looked at me. "Oh hell. I know this might be the wrong time, but Jesus, I love you." I nodded, not sure I was ready to say the same. He searched my eyes and when he realized I wasn't sure, he released me from the wall and walked to the towel rack. Grabbing two clean towels, he wrapped one around his waist and proceeded to dry me off with the other. I watched as he delicately brushed my body, taking quick swipes at my breasts and entrance, more focused on the softer parts, like my shoulders and legs. When he determined I was dry enough, he wrapped the towel around me like a toga and grabbed another for my hair. He sat me down on the bench and slowly finger-combed through my hair, untangling all the knots I had accumulated. I was touched, so surprised at the gentle way he took care of me, that my eyes began to tear up. Without saying a word, Tim knelt down and brushed away my tears with a well-callused thumb. Snatching up two more towels, he took my hand and led me to the therapy room. I was confused at first, but as he wiped down a massage table and spread a towel over it, I understood. Tim left the room and returned with our underwear. Slipping on his briefs, he helped me into my bottoms and bra. He stood in front of me, looking oddly nervous.

"Live, I..I don't know what to say. The way you took care of me tonight…no one has ever done that before. I know you wanted to do that, and I know you don't want anything in return, but I want to do this for you. And…you don't have to say it back. I get it." Averting his eyes, Tim stood there. I watched him, knowing that he was honestly touched and that something in him had begun to heal. Tears rolled down my face as I thought of how much a simple gesture like this had meant to him, of all the hard shit he'd had to deal with in his life. All I wanted for him was a new start, and for him to see that people do care about him. I spoke quietly.

"Timothy Riggins, look me in the eyes." He met my gaze. "I love you." Tim's face broke out in a grin, and he picked me up and spun me around. Then he stopped and slowly laid me down on a massage table, folding another towel for a pillow. I relaxed immediately, hopeful for what was coming. I felt TIm's rough hands unhook my bra and push the straps aside. He tried to massage my shoulders, but his place beside the table wasn't working. Not opening my eyes, I heard his voice.

"Umm, Live. Is it okay if I -" Before he was done, I nodded my head. I felt him hop onto the table and straddle my back, his strong hands smoothing out all the kinks and knots in my back and shoulders. It was heaven and I never wanted him to stop. Every once in a while, Tim would lose his balance and momentarily rest on my back, but his weight was reassuring. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of Tim's rough hands rubbing into my skin. Just when I thought I was falling asleep, Tim rolled off of me.

"Live. God, I love you. I just -" He gestured towards his crotch, and I laughed. He was hard again. I looked up into his eyes, and saw the familiar burning. I knew what he wanted, and truth be told, I wanted it too. I couldn't get enough of him.

"Alright. Let's go." I smiled as he swaggered over to the table and kissed me deeply. We got hot and heavy quick and before I knew it I was on my back, with Tim towering over me. He was inching himself towards me when I realized we were forgetting something.

"Wait." I struggled to get myself into a sitting position. "Wait. We need a condom."

"Shit." Tim was up and over to his locker in seconds, digging through his gym bag. I took an appreciative look at his naked ass before another realization sunk into my head. I had remembered a condom this time, but what about half an hour ago in the shower? I struggled to remember if Tim had pulled one out of his jeans or from his locker. Panic began to sink in when no memory came to mind.

"Tim. Timmmm. TIM." I panicked. Tim abandoned his search and ran back over to me.

"You okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Should we stop?" I heard a note of panic in his own voice and I began to cry.

"Fuck. Tim, fuck. I can't remember. Did we use a condom in the shower? I can't remember!" I wailed. Tim sank down onto the table opposite me and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't speak, so I had my answer. "TIM. Oh my fucking god. Oh Jesus. Oh, what now?" I began to sob, my shoulders heaving and nose running. Tim gathered me in his arms and held me until I stopped.

"Live. Listen to me. First of all, no matter what happens, I'm with you. 100%. Second, we can't know anything yet. We could get lucky. Miracles happen." I stared at him, not sure what to do. How had this amazing night turned out like this?

"Hey Live?" Tim asked. I looked at him questioningly.

"I know that this might be the completely wrong time and feel free to smack me if I'm being a complete asshole, but how about some Tim Riggins therapy?" He smiled and ran his perfect hands along my back. I stared at my hands, wondering what I should do. Finally I nodded my head and slipped my hand in his.

"Oh, what the hell. Come on, Timothy. Heal me." I whispered in his ear.

**AN: **Here's chapter two! Hope you like it (: It might be a little longer before I can update again...I'm going on vacation next week and I'm not sure I'll have internet access...but hang tight! It'll be here eventually!


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up to the sound of Tim's snoring in my ear. I rolled over and stared at him. His hair was laying across his face in pieces and he wore a slight smile. I took a quiet pleasure in watching him sleep, knowing that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard completely down in my presence. Watching his face, I wondered what would happen when he woke up. Last night had been amazing, but would Tim retreat back to his shell? He hadn't really relaxed with me before this, so I wondered if it was only a one time thing. My mind wandered to an hour from now, when we had to leave the little locker room haven we had created. Did he expect to just drop me off at home, and go on with our lives? Were we going to go get breakfast? Or lunch? I had no idea what time it was. And then the panic set over me when I realized there was also a potential pregnancy scare in the mix. I could feel myself starting to freak out, and I knew I had to walk around or I'd go crazy. I slipped out from Tim's side, watching as he shivered and curled into himself. I paced around the locker room, the strange mix of sweat, bleach, shampoo and sex actually helping to calm my nerves. I knew the only thing we could do next was wake up and talk about this. Tim _hated_ to have serious conversations, hated to bring all the emotions and spontaneity out of his life. He figured he'd gotten along this far without having to talk about his feelings and where a relationship was going next, so why should he have to start now? I always reminded him that until I came along, he'd been drinking his body weight in beer and having random sex with rally girls, so there had been no need to have serious conversations. Sometimes I worried that he would get tired of having to deal with me and my need to talk about things and go back to the girls that fell all over him. Even I had to admit, sometimes I got incredibly tired of having to deal with the "You're dating _Tim Riggins_?" crap. People just didn't understand what I saw in him. Sometimes I didn't either. Sure, he was so hot he made me drool, we had fantastic sex, it was fun to date the famous #33 from the Dillon Panthers, but he made me doubt us. I saw the way his glance occasionally strayed to a rally girl shaking her butt in the middle of the party. I heard the exasperation in his voice when I called him at night, worried about something stupid. He said he wasn't drinking as much, trying for my sake, but I saw the cases of Lone Star beer in the fridge. He claimed they were for Billy, but I knew Billy preferred his Coors Light. I think Tim thought he could slip things like that by me, but the first thing I learned about the Riggins brothers was that you _did not_ buy the wrong beer. And I knew I sounded like a overbearing girlfriend, but I couldn't help it. I guess I just didn't completely trust him. Which was a major problem, especially if I really was pregnant. I sat down on the bench to try to calm down again. As I counted my breaths, I heard Tim moving around in the other room. He stood in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck with one hand.

"Hey." I didn't know if it was just us or if it happened to every other couple, but a quiet "Hey" seemed to be our neutral greeting, the one we used after a fight, a quiet snuggling session, a night of great sex or just about every time we first saw each other. I looked over at him and I realized things could go one of two ways. I could either bring up the future and we could get in a huge fight, or I could just suck it up and we could move on.

"Hey." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You okay?" Tim took a seat next to me.

"Yeah. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Today. Us. Our future."

"Oh. What about it?" I just stared at him. Good Lord, sometimes Tim could be so dense. I wasn't sure getting into things now would be good, but at this point I was pissed and I didn't give a shit.

"Hmm, let me think. Maybe about the fact that I've seen you checking out rally girls when we're at parties. I know that you hate talking about our relationship, but it's important to me and I want to make sure we're on the same page. I hate that you never want to talk about us and where we're headed. Jesus, Tim, I just had sex with you in the Panther locker room. Where do we go from here? What about next year when you've graduated and gone off to do whatever you're going to do? What about next Friday when you're drunk at a Panther party? Are you sure you're going to be faithful to me? What happens if we really are pregnant? I know you said last night that you're with me 100%, but…I don't know. I'm just not sure." I embarrassingly wiped my tears away. Tim sat next to me, not moving. I knew this routine all too well. "Oh, no Tim. Don't pull this silent act on me. I know it works with Billy, Mindy, Tyra, Lyla, everyone else, but you're not pulling this with me. We're going to talk about this, get it all out in the open right now." Tim still didn't say anything, just stared down at his knees.

"God-damn it Tim! Answer me! I'm so tired of your shit sometimes!"

Tim just stood up, shook his head and said, "Maybe we should do this some other time when you're not angry."

I ran in front of him and pushed my hands against his chest. "Oh no you don't. Tim, listen to me. We're discussing this, right now. Now tomorrow, not next week, right now. I'm tired of your bullshit. Do you even care about me? Answer me honestly, right now." Tim grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Live, I care about you. I care about you more than I've cared about anyone else. I just…I don't want to talk about it. You know how I feel about talking." Tim grinned. "We don't ever have to talk." His hands roamed down my sides.

"Tim. Damn you. I know you hate talking, but seriously. Just tell me. Do you want to be with me or not? Because if you don't, I'm done. I'll walk out right now and I won't come back. And I'm so god-damn serious." Tim stopped moving his hands.

"I want to. I do." He looked down at me, not quite meeting my eyes. "I'm serious. Please don't ever leave me." Tim twisted a strand of my hair around his index finger. He finally looked up at me. "I promise I won't hurt you ever again. I really didn't mean to. I just…this whole thing is new. I'm not used to talking about my feelings, talking about anything, really, and Liv, it's just hard, you know?"

Even though I really didn't want to give in easily and come across as a weak girl blinded by his begging, I realized this wasn't all about me, and I wasn't the only one taking a risk. This wasn't easy for Tim either. Hell, he just admitted to me that he needed me and was having trouble with this relationship. Turning him down now wouldn't make me stronger; in fact, it would only make me weaker. I needed to learn how to trust him and people in general. Trusting wasn't a strong point of mine.

"I do. I know. Tim, it's okay. We'll figure this out, we'll work through whatever it is. I want to work through it with you. I want this relationship to be something good for us both. I need to learn how to trust you. I'm sorry I was being jealous and petty. Let's just go eat, okay? I'm starving. You gave me a good workout." I winked at him and grabbed my bag, slipping on my tank and jeans from yesterday. Tim slipped on a pair of jeans from his locker and a white t-shirt. He looked over at me and smiled.

"Close your eyes." He whispered in my ear. I stared at him suspiciously for a second, but then did as I was told. I could feel his hands rubbing against my waist, then pushing my tank top over my head. I started to protest.

"Tim, what are you doing? We need to get out of here. I don't even know what time it is." I started to open my eyes, but Tim covered them with his hand.

"Shhh. Trust me. Keep 'em closed." I sighed, but obeyed. I could hear Tim digging around in his locker, quietly mumbling to himself. In a rush of body heat and faint smell of sweat, Tim was slipping something over my head and arms. As the cool material touched my skin, I knew it was his Panthers jersey. To an outsider, this wouldn't seem like a big deal. But they didn't know the town of Dillon and the rules it enforced. As a girlfriend of a Panther, you waited for this moment. There was a unspoken tradition among the boys that their jersey weren't just handed out to any cheerleader or rally girl they dated, it was reserved for someone worthy, someone who understood that by wearing the jersey, you represented and were a part of the Panther family. Every girl who dated a Panther hoped to be the one to wear his jersey. I can still remember hearing rumors that Jason Street was thinking of giving Lyla Garrity his varsity jacket, which in Dillon was just as good as an engagement ring. Of course, that was before the accident…Tim's light kiss on my forehead brought me back to reality.

"Hey." Tim looked down at me, a smile spread across his face.

I blinked up at him, a little nervous and unsure if we should talk about what just happened. I figured he had enough of my never-ending stream of words, so I shut up and hugged him. Tim pulled me up until I was straddling him at the waist and he was supporting my butt with his arms.

"Live, I love you. You know that, right?"

"Right." I replied, a giddy smile breaking out on my face.

"No regrets." Tim whispered in my ear, setting me back down on the floor.

"No regrets."


	4. Chapter 4

It was Sunday morning, and I was laying in bed trying to remember what had happened on Saturday. I remembered me and Tim's fight, then leaving the locker room and realizing it was already two in the afternoon. I could still remember grabbing ice cream at the Alamo Freeze, a rare treat for both of us. Smash had been working, so Tim and him talked about football for a while, leaving me time to think of a plan to get a pregnancy test without anyone seeing. If I caught the attention of anyone from Dillon, I was going to be headline news. Word got around this town in milliseconds. I remembered leaving, talking Tim into driving me one town over to get a test, and peeing in the bathroom at the gas station with Tim standing outside the door. I remember asking Tim to distract me by talking as we waited, remembered him mentioning Smash's party that night, how we had to go because Smash was providing the beer for once. I remembered Tim slamming open the door, too impatient to wait outside. I remembered holding my breath, tears rolling down my face, praying to God that it was negative. I could still see Tim running his hand through his hair over and over, asking every two seconds if I could see the line. I remember my knees giving out beneath me, Tim catching me by the armpits, his lips all over my face when he saw the negative blue line. I remember looking at the clock hanging on the bathroom wall, the time etched in my brain forever: 4:44. I even remember noticing how weird that was, and wondering if it was some sort of sign. I can see Tim's face, his beautiful smile, those hazel eyes full of excitement. I remember bursting into tears, catching Tim by surprise. I still hadn't told Tim, but part of me was sad when I saw that negative sign. Part of me said to myself, "Now there's a chance you'll lose him." I can still feel Tim's strong arms around me, rocking me until I was calm enough to move outside to the truck. I remember sitting on the bench seat, staring out the window as Tim ran back into the store. I remember him coming out with a Coke, a water bottle, a Snickers bar and a six-pack. He had brought me to the edge of the seat and brushed the stray hairs out of my eyes. Pouring water on a napkin, he had blotted off my face and neck, whispering words I can't remember now. He opened both the Coke and the candy and told me to drink and eat, then grabbed a beer and hopped into the driver's seat. I remember the drive to the cliff where Tim often practiced his golf swing and how he settled me into a lawn chair as he proceeded to drink and then hit the remaining beers. I remember ditching my Coke and grabbing a Lone Star, stopping Tim in his tracks. I can still hear the shock in his voice as he asked me if I was sure I wanted to drink. I remember my response, clear as day: "I want to forget." Then things began to get a bit blurry. I can remember Tim driving us to Smash's party, ordering Smash to help me with my request. I remember always checking to make sure Tim was in the room with me, and how he never left me. There's a blank spot, and then I can remember Smash kicking everyone out. I think I was curled up in a chair when Tim picked me up and set me in his truck. The next thing I remember was Tim laying me down in my own bed, kissing me on the forehead, and leaving. Then I passed out.

I rolled over and waited for the nausea to pass. I glanced at the clock, spying a sticky note stuck in front of the time. Ignoring the headache and sickness that came with stretching to reach the clock, I ripped off the sticky note and quickly read it.

"_Olivia - I was a total doofus and forgot that it was your uncle and I's 20th wedding anniversary. However, George did not…for once. He surprised me with a road trip down to Galveston for the next four days. Of course, he forgot to tell you before-hand, so I'm leaving you $150 so you can feed yourself. Don't throw any crazy parties here, go to other people's. Don't have Tim spend the night, I don't want to take care of another child. We'll be back late on Wednesday. Love you! - Aunt Melinda_"

Oh, if only she knew. I decided that I would follow her rule about throwing parties because I was way too lazy to clean up, but immediately dismissed the other rule about Tim. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her. I couldn't wait to tell Tim the fantastic news. Of course, first I had to work on getting myself feeling better. I sat up, waited for the spinning room to stop, and hopped out of bed. Blinking against the bright sunshine pouring in the windows, I grabbed two aspirin out of the bathroom and then headed to the kitchen. The clock said 12:15, but there was no way it was that late already. I checked in the dining room, where I was proved wrong. I wandered back to the sink, filled up a glass and swallowed the pills. Looking through the refrigerator for some food, I heard a knock at the back door. I whipped around, trying to decide if I should bring a knife over with me. I decided against it and swung open the door. Tim greeted me with a quick peck and pushed past me.

"Live, did you eat yet? I stopped by your window earlier and read the note. These next four days will be the best you've ever had." Tim seemed to be ten times more energetic and upbeat than he normally was, and I was suspicious.

"No, I haven't eaten yet. Why are you so awake and upbeat?" I asked.

"I'm not!" Tim was grabbing a cup from the cabinet and didn't turn to face me.

"Yes, you are. Why? What's wrong?" I persisted. Tim turned around and looked at me.

"Live, it's nothing. You're just hung-over and cranky. Did you take some aspirin yet? Eat something too." I just stared, not believing him, but too tired to fight. I sat down in the chair and put my head in my arms.

"Live, come on. Let's get you back in bed." Tim folded me into his arms and carried me to my bed. Sliding me in between the sheets, he tucked them around me before closing the door behind him. I lay there for a few minutes, exhausted, before I sank into a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When I woke up again, the first thing I felt was an incredible urge to puke. I couldn't remember if Tim had left or not, but I called out for him anyway. Holding back the impulse to vomit all over my bed, I heard Tim's footsteps outside my door. He calmly walked in, carrying a large mixing bowl. I grabbed the bowl out of his hands and leaned into it, just wanting to get rid of the terrible taste.

"Shhh, Live. Come on now. Puke it out. You'll feel better when you do. There. See? You can do this. Get it all out. That's it." Tim murmured in my ear as his strong fingers scraped the hair back from forehead. It felt like I had been puking for hours and the back of my throat burned. When my stomach had finally stopped churning, I leaned back against Tim, my head resting on his shoulder. He let me rest for a few minutes, but then pulled himself out from under me.

"Live, I'll be right back. I'm going to get rid of this," he gestured to the mixing bowl, "and then I'll be back." Through my sick haze, I heard him flushing the toilet and washing out the bowl in the kitchen. The bedroom door opened, and Tim's smiling face greeted me. He climbed into bed, pulling me against him. He gathered all my limbs together and held me in the bowl he made with his legs. My face was buried in his neck and I breathed in his familiar scent of grass, soap, and lingering sweat. I heard him chuckle, and he softly tilted my chin towards his face. Telling me to open my mouth, he slipped in a piece of gum.

"Does my breath really smell that bad?"

Tim chuckled again. "Sort of. But it will also help your stomach. Believe me." And I did. If anyone knew the cure for hangover sickness, it was Tim Riggins. We sat in silence for a few minutes, until I opened my mouth to speak again.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Really. It's been a long time since anyone's taken care of me like that. Usually I'm on my own."

Tim just sighed and pulled me closer. "What can I say? It wasn't as bad as I thought; taking care of someone. Kinda liked it, actually."

I kissed the underside of his chin, feeling the tiny hairs of his stubble. "Look at big Tim Riggins. Turning into quite the softy."

"Just don't tell the guys." I laughed. "Hey, they'll never let me live it down. Tim Riggins, the family man."

Tim's words reminded me of the previous day, and a wave of sadness swept over me. I turned my head to look out my bedroom window. Tim seemed to notice that something was wrong because I could feel his muscles tense under me. He shifted around me and I could hear him clear his throat.

"Hey. Live. What's wrong?" Tim stroked my arm, but I shrugged him off. My eyes overflowed with tears and I couldn't hold back my sobs. As Tim's arms tightened around me, the lyrics to a Tracy Chapman song I listened to as a kid popped into my head. "_I had a feeling that I belonged, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone." _There was so much I wanted to tell him, so many thoughts I had to get off my chest, but I had no idea where to start. I clung to Tim's arm and let him rock me back and forth. I could hear him trying to get me to tell me what was bothering me, that he could try to help, that he would kick whatever son of a bitch's ass he needed to. Eventually his voice faded away but his arms never loosened their grip. I lay weakly against his arm, trying to gather the strength to start the conversation. I untwined myself from his body and sat cross-legged across from Tim. He mimicked my actions, brushing loose pieces of hair out of his face. I recognized the steely look in his eyes; it was the same look he wore the day before a game. It was his "I'm-preparing-for-the-worst" face. It scared me a little to see him like that, to see that he was obviously expecting the worst but was still willing to sit here and take it. If I were in that position, I would have run far away. But this time, I was going to sit here and face the truth. Learn to trust someone else and stop carrying all this baggage myself.

"Tim."

"Live."

"Before I start, I'm not breaking up with you. I don't want to break up, take a break, or whatever other terms there are for that. I want to be with you." Tim just nodded, a serious expression on his face. "I'm not really sure what I'm going to say. I'm still not completely sure what exactly I'm even feeling. I don't even know where to start. I just…I haven't felt okay since taking that pregnancy test."

"But it was negative." Tim looked confused.

"That's what I mean. I…I don't know. I just feel empty. Like, I know that I couldn't take care of a baby right now, but I guess I just saw these images of the three of us being this happy family. I saw us getting married, and having our own house, and working, and having more babies, and presents under the Christmas tree, and a turkey on Thanksgiving, and you teaching the kids football, and a big green backyard." Embarrassed tears dripped down my face. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it? Good Lord, I'm only 17." I turned to look at Tim, and he was staring out the window, not answering. "You don't have to say anything. It was all just a stupid daydream. I should be happy we're not straddled with a baby. Can you imagine? Tim Riggins, a _real_ family man? Olivia Davies, a teen mom without her _own_ mom?" I laughed bitterly through my tears. "Now that's a story Dillon would make sure got around. Oh my god, I can just picture the look on Tami Taylor's face. She's always calling me into her office, pretending to be my mom. She would have freaked out on me. 'Girl, I had expected better from you. I can't believe y'all went and got into this situation.'" I mimicked. "Oh, and Coach. Dear God. The Taylors' would have ripped into us. I bet you anything they would have called both of us to their house. Julie probably would have been laughing from her room. It was just what they all said would happen." I could hear myself turning bitter and mean, but I couldn't stop the flow of words. "Everyone always warned me; told me that dating you was wrong. Oh, they would have loved to be proved right. It-

"Olivia." Tim spoke softly, still looking out the window. I fell silent. Tim rarely called me Olivia. I stared at him, waiting for his head to turn. Without moving, he spoke again.

"Olivia. It's not stupid. We could have proved them wrong." He got up, not making eye contact, and walked out my bedroom door. I couldn't move. I just listened to him open the front door, walk out and slam it shut. The sound of the door made me come to my senses. I got up, not caring that I was only dressed in the t-shirt and old underwear I had scavenged from my floor. Running to the front door, I whipped it open and ran to the driveway, expecting to see empty asphalt. Instead, there was Tim's black '86 Chevy with Tim sitting in the driver's seat. Seeing him sitting there made my blood boil. How dare he tease me like this?

"TIMOTHY RIGGINS. WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?" I hammered on his window, but he sat there, staring straight ahead. I turned into a maniac. "YOU GET OUT OF THE GOD-DAMN CAR RIGHT NOW. I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. YOU JUST DROP THESE RIDDLES ON ME AND THEN ESCAPE BACK TO YOUR SILENCE. FINE, JUST SIT THERE AND IGNORE ME. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I CONTINUE TO DATE YOU. YOU'RE JUST A BIG FAT ASSHOLE." I kicked the door of his truck and walked away, trying to make sure he didn't see me limp. I had just stepped through the doorway when Tim grabbed me by the wrist. He spun me around and kissed me full on the mouth, thrusting me up against the wall. I tried to push him away at first, but I fell limp against him the second his tongue poked past my lips. Sweet Jesus, he gave me such a rush. I wasn't really mad at him, just frustrated and sad, and he knew it. Tim wasn't one for talking or words, so he always tried to show me his feelings in different ways. Well, really just ways like this. When I broke away to breathe, I looked up at Tim. His face was slightly twisted up and I wondered if he was okay. Breathing hard, Tim sat down on the stairs by the door. I made to move toward him, but as I stretched out my hand to touch his arm, Tim whipped around and threw his fist towards the railing. The cheap wooden rail burst from its place and skidded across the foyer. I backed away, slightly scared by Tim's intensity. Eyes burning, Tim faced me.

"Damn it Live! You think I'm totally okay? You think I don't know what this town says about me? You think I don't know that everyone looks down at me like I'm some sort of cheap manwhore? You think I don't know that? And did you really think you were the only one who had dreams of a family? You really thought I couldn't care less about the baby? I've spent my whole shitty life looking for some place other than the football field where I feel at home! And you know what? I was ready for this. I was ready to have someone depend on me, instead of the other way around. You weren't the only one who pictured a house and kids and me teaching them football on our front lawn! Jesus, Live, I wanted…I wanted _you_." When I heard Tim's voice crack, the tears slipped faster down my face. I looked up and met Tim's gaze. The blaze in his eyes was gone, replaced with salty tears. I stared at him in disbelief. Here was this big running-back who benched 150 pounds easy, took down any opponent on the field, and got in regular bar fights, _crying_. About his lack of a family. It was enough to make me break down all over again. I walked over to where Tim was crouched on the stairs and took his head in my lap. His tears fell onto my bare thighs and I gathered his hulking body as best I could into my arms. I rocked him slowly back and forth, running one hand through his hair and

another across his back. I hummed quietly, a tune that slowly transformed into a song my aunt used to sing for me. _"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings. These are a few of my favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad." _I could hear the deep breathing of Tim and I knew he had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, I leaned my head down on his and closed my eyes.


End file.
